


of burnt frocks and captives

by martial_quill



Category: Little Women (1994), Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: F/M, Soulmarks, Soulmates, Soulmates AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 22:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11976348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martial_quill/pseuds/martial_quill
Summary: Jo and Laurie are soulmates. Jo is not amused. Laurie is a hopeless romantic.





	of burnt frocks and captives

_Oh! Sorry!_

His parents’ soulmarks, thirteen-year old Theodore “Laurie” Laurence thought, studying the pale white script curling around his ankle, had been much more romantic. Written in his father’s bold hand down his mother’s neck had been, “I think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” His mother’s delicate cursive had curled around his father’s bicep: _I’ve been waiting to hear you say that._

But his mark is written in a messy scrawl, twining around his ankle, apologetic and utterly and totally unhelpful.

If it weren’t for the fact that it is written in English and everyone in Vevay speaks French, he’d have had met his soulmate a dozen times already, he thinks, flopping back on his bed with disgust. 

* * *

 

 Sure enough, by the time the fateful day rolls around, Laurie has heard the exact same words, in the exact same language, in the exact same _order_ , spoken to him about forty different times.

(It’s amazing how often it had happened on the ship crossing the Atlantic _alone_.)

He is hiding behind the curtains when it happens. Hiding from the girls who are beginning to sharpen their talons for husband hunting; from the other young men, who look into his black-brown eyes and at his brown skin, and smile, brightly and falsely, while their distaste shines in their eyes.

But then someone interrupts his brooding, by pushing past the curtains and stumbling into his arms.

“Oh, sorry!” the girl from next door exclaims, her expression caught between horror and sheepish laughter, and he laughs with her. She must be his age, he realises, and there’s something in that face that is open and honest and charming in its utter lack of charm.

“Don’t mind me, stay if you like,” he says, steadying her.

The mirth in her eyes evaporates, and her pale lips part in shock. Laurie frowns, mentally reviewing the past minute. No, he has been a perfect gentleman, he’s sure of it.

She clears her throat and hastily makes to leave, and he snaps to attention, putting a hand on her arm.

“Have I offended you, miss?”

“Oh, no!” she says, spinning back to face him. “No, you haven’t, it’s only–” she flushes.

It’s quite attractive, and with a strange, sudden flash, Laurie wonders what else might make this girl blush, with her bright grey eyes and hair so thick it surely murders combs.

Her face contorts, beneath the pink splashing her cheeks, and then she seems to come to a decision.

“You see,” she says, the words coming out slowly and reluctantly, “that’s my soulmark. What you just said.”

Laurie nods, a bit pleased that she doesn’t seem to be about to slap him for his hand still being on her arm, and a bit sad that the spectacular pink splotching her cheeks isn’t deepening to red.

Then her words sink in.

“Oh,” he says, intelligently. _I live next door to my soul mate?_

This sparks a torrent of words from her, as she looks at him, her grey eyes very wide and almost level with his. “And, well, it’s not that you’re not a nice boy, I’m sure you are, for you have very kind eyes, and it’s not that you’re not handsome, either, because you are, or you will be in a few years at least, and oh, Lord, I sound like Meg, but–”

Laurie squeezes her arm, feeling rather overwhelmed by this flood of sound. Overwhelmed, and yet amused at the same time, and worried by the panic in her voice. _Please, stay calm,_ he pleads with her through his hand wrapping around hers.

“Miss, can I suggest breathing?” he suggests.

 _Miss._ A ludicrous way to address your soul-mate, but she takes a deep breath, and seems to relax a little.

"Thank you, Miss," Laurie says. "I was rather afraid you'd faint, and I'm not good at catching ladies." 

“Oh, you shouldn't have worried, for I’m not a Miss, really, and I’m terrible at being a lady.”

He bites the inside of his lip to keep from smiling widely at that. “Perhaps, but I’m afraid I don’t know your name, so I can't address you any other way.”

She looks back at him, laughing. “I suppose you don’t, for you never got a chance to hear it when you brought Beth’s cat home once. She was ever so grateful, but she’s ever so shy. That's why she didn't introduce herself,” she says, smiling at the mention of her sister’s name. The grey eyes soften with a gentle glow, and that is the moment where Laure realises he’s lost.

“I’m delighted to hear it, Miss March,” Laurie says. Now, with any luck…

“Oh, I’m not Miss March,” she says, tossing her hair. It glows in the warm light of the little alcove. “I’m just Jo, Mister Laurence.”

Laurie chuckles at that, shaking his head to hide his quick smile of triumph. “No, I’m just Laurie. Mister Laurence is my grandfather.”

“Laurie is certainly easier to say, so I might use that,” Jo says, her head tipped to the side in thought. “Does that mean your name is Laurie Laurence?”

“Only unofficially,” he grins at her, pleased to see the panic subsiding in her eyes, replaced instead by amusement. “My full name is Theodore, and my parents called me Theo, but the fellows at school called me Dora until I made them say Laurie. I haven’t gone by Theodore since.”

“Well, I suppose I must ‘fess up too,” she sighs, looking at her hands.

Curiosity surges. “’fess?” he asks her, leaning forward.

She looks at him, eyes sparkling. “’Fess is short for ‘confess’, and I must confess that my full name is Josephine. But I hate it, so if you don’t call me Jo, I’m afraid I’m liable to fly at you.”

“I shall keep it in mind,” he promises. “But why do you hate Josephine?”

“It’s just so sentimental! Jo, on the other hand, there’s a sensible name.” A frown passes her face. “How did you stop the fellows at your school from calling you Dora?”

“Thrashed ‘em,” Laurie says, looking at her, his eyebrows rising. _How else?_

She sighs, looking at the ceiling. “Pity I can’t thrash Aunt March,” she muses.

Laurie nudges her with his shoulder. “We all have our troubles to bear,” he said, voice solemn, lips twitching.

She looks at him, her frown deepening, before she notices his smile, and loses her composure.

Laurie learns in that moment that he has another favourite sound, to add to the notes of the piano and the birdsong in the morning: namely, the wild cackle of Jo March.

The conversation flows easily after that, easily – if not more so – than it has with any other friend, any other _person_ , Laurie has ever had in his life, and the word _soul mate_ recedes into the back of his mind, rather than the fore front. Laurie files away new facts about his friend every minute: she has three sisters, Meg, Amy and Beth; she considers herself a hazard on the dance floor, if there’s not enough space; she is insatiably curious, as she pries every scrap of information about school in Vevay that she possibly can from him. She is forthright and bold and filled with laughter and life, and spins words together with such a delightfully boyish air that Laurie can’t help but smile.

Her foot starts tapping when the polka music begins, and she cast him an almost shy glance.

“Do you want to dance?” Laurie asks her.

“I can’t, I promised Meg that I wouldn’t,” she confides, grey eyes wide and earnest.

“Why?” Laurie asks, leaning forward a little, because Jo March has made him smile and laugh more in the past twenty minutes than some of his friends have managed in years.

“You must promise not to tell,” she tells him.

He throws her an injured look.

She throws him an unimpressed look.

“On my honour,” he promises.

“I have a habit of standing too close to the fire, and burning my frocks, and so I scorched this one,” she begins to explain. “You may laugh, though you mustn’t tell, for it _is_ funny.”

“Will you dance with me all the same?” he asks, getting to his feet and offering her his hand.

“Laurie,” she says, shaking her head, “I just explained why I can’t!”

“No, hear me out,” he persists, “for I have a plan.” He explains about the hallway, and cajoles her with the promise of the steps to a dance she’s never learned before, and he leads her to the hallway, her un-gloved hands in his.

“I feel I should warn you that your toes will not survive this,” Jo warns him, as he positions them.

“They’re sturdier than you think,” Laurie says, screwing up his face in mock-offence, and hearing Jo laugh again.

They dance until they stumble across Meg’s sister, and Laurie ends up on the box whilst she and Meg take the carriage.

She pulls him aside as he offers her a hand down from the carriage outside the March home.

“Don’t tell Meg,” she whispers, her breath warm against his ear in the freezing night.

He looks at her, startled. “You don’t want me to tell anyone?”

“I don’t,” she says, and then she is helping Meg out, and there’s no time to argue about it.

Laurie helps Meg and Jo to the door, and musters a thin smile for Jo’s Marmee when she comes to the door, taking Meg’s arm from his. She glances at him sharply, no doubt seeing the veneer, but then her eldest daughter is braced across her shoulder, demanding her attention.

“Thank you so much, Laurie,” Jo says, twisting her head over her shoulder to lock eyes with him.

He looks into pleading grey eyes, and feels his resistance crumble.

_So be it._

“My pleasure, Jo,” he says, waving at them and shutting the door behind him. 

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so an explanation:
> 
> 'What the hell would happen if I wrote a Little Women soul mark AU' popped into my head, and this was the eventual result. (Laurie and Jo were both stubborn. Jo pointed out that her independent streak wouldn't go away just because she had a soul mark. Laurie, bless him, wanted to talk about his parents for about a thousand words or so before he would cooperate.) 
> 
> My headcanon for this is that Jo's a little more straightforward about her attraction to Laurie, and it sort of comes out because she's desperately trying to explain why she doesn't _want_ a soulmate yet, or perhaps ever. That's why it comes out during her Open Mouth, Insert Foot speech. 
> 
> "And it hits him with the force of a cricket bat that of course she's his, because neither of them fit, not really, him with his too-European airs nor she with her burnt frocks–  
> but somehow, in this space, Laurie thinks things might turn out alright."  
> (– Or: why Jo and Laurie are soulmates, I don't care if it's romantic or platonic, kthxbai)
> 
> The line was originally going to be between the explanation of the frock and Laurie asking her to dance. Then I discarded it, because you guys are smart enough to work it out for yourselves. Then I kept it in the notes, because I'm just a little proud of that mental image.
> 
> As to why Laurie gives in and keeps it a secret at the end? Well, in canon, he is a gentleman, and I think he has considerably more compunction about arguing with a girl who he's just met than with his best friend of several years. Familiarity is magic like that. He's just not as heartbroken at this point (though very, very disappointed) as he is at Jo's proposal. 
> 
> Please comment! I'd love to know what you think! And would anyone be interested in a follow up, possibly where Jo and Laurie come to an understanding?


End file.
